


Faith, Hope, and Trickster

by WitchWayWizardry



Category: DCU (Comics), Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel (Comics), Smallville, The Sandman (Comics), Thor (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beginnings, Crossover, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), High School, Multi, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Starts Season Two
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:49:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25272706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchWayWizardry/pseuds/WitchWayWizardry
Summary: In a twisted whim of fate, Loki - God of Mischief of the Marvel Universe - finds himself in the care and tutelage of the Demon: Ra's al Ghul, and the League of Assassins.  Grown and trained, in the martial and the magical, Loki is sent to investigate and destroy that which prevents ruination and rebirth in the tiny rural town of Smallville, Kansas.  The new student at Smallville High, Loki finds himself drawn to the kindly and powerful Clark Kent and his friends, leading to questioning everything Loki was raised to believe.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Assignment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Timmbarney94](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timmbarney94/gifts).



_“From the Fall of Stars, there: the Trickster comes.”  
“In a World where naught is right, and Ruin must be made right, one who denies Destiny will come.”  
“One who desires Change will come.”  
“From the Fall of Stars, here, the Trickster comes.”_

“Well… it seems Father truly never grows tired of his prophesies.” Talia al Ghul remarked, sarcastically.

“We’ve always known that,” Loki answered, fingers of his left hand playfully tangled in Talia’s hair, “Always...”

The father in question, Ra’s al-Ghul, ignored the insolence of his daughter and adopted child. For the moment. He’d recited the promised words for a reason. The Master of Assassins never does anything without reason. Turning from the alter, graced with incense, all manner of blades, and flickering, burning candles, Ra’s al-Ghul addressed his children with dead eyes staring down an upturned nose. Dangerous hands were held unseen behind a perfectly postured back, as he waited for the two teenagers to remember their place.

Talia al-Ghul was first to right her stance and meet her father’s stare with respect, but Loki al-Ghul remained aloof and continued to futz with his sister’s brown locks.

“It seems Father possesses an abundance of patience today,” Loki mocked their situation, “What merits such a new demeanor, I wonder?”

“And still you try that patience,” Ra’s returned, “You’ve not left my care yet, child. Be wary, lest punishment become necessary.”

With measured control, Loki met and realized the veracity in his Father’s eyes. Today was the day that Loki was to be free. To leave the League of Assassins, to begin his mission. Everything he wanted he would finally have. No more sneaking out for pointless nightly escapes. No more endless training. Finally, the world would be his. So, to prevent having that all taken away, Loki slowly mirrored his sister’s stance: back straight, muscles ready and relaxed, but head kept ever so slightly down.

“Strange magics and destiny have brought you to us, my Trickster,” Ra’s al-Ghul spoke with an air of pomp and circumstance, “On the day you arrived, little more than a boy, your skin as blue and cold as ice, you knew not but your name: Loki Odinson. A god of mischief, and heir to the throne of the giants in myths of old. You came into our care. And now? It is time for your mission to begin.”

“Really, Father, it’s only us here,” Loki relaxed his posture slightly, “Why are you acting like - ?”

But the snap of a bamboo reed on the crown of his head silenced Loki, and returned him to attention. Apparently, it didn’t matter; Ra’s wanted ceremony. He always wanted ceremony – ever the primadonna. Returning the rod and his hands back behind him, Ra’s produced, with his other hand, a scroll. Handing it to Loki, Ra’s waited while Talia deigned to read along with her adopted sibling out of the corner of her eye.

“Kansas?!” Loki sputtered, incredulous, “You’re sending me to damned Kansas?!”

“Impatient and insolent,” Ra’s muttered, “Perhaps you’re not ready for this after all.”

Again, Loki fell silent, but the rage in his eyes brought nigh-invisible crackling power to dance on his fingertips.

“Control, Loki,” Talia whispered, barely moving her lips.

“If you would read the entirety of the assignment,” Ra’s started, “You would learn that Smallville, Kansas is about as unnatural as they come. Near the very same night when you fell from the radiance of rainbow light, a disastrous meteor shower devastated Smallville, Kansas. And the effects of the foreign radiation and minerals have resulted in unexplained phenomenon. Still, the town hasn’t fallen to chaos. Someone, or something, has prevented further destruction and genocide.”

“It could just be the townspeople,” Loki posited, “Humans aren’t as bad as you are one to think, Father. I mean, they are terrible, but often it isn’t their fault.”

“I am in no mood to debate philosophy with you, Loki,” Ra’s barked, “You will go to Smallville, Kansas. You will find whatever it is that prevents the ruination and rebirth. And you will destroy it. Integrate yourself into their society. Be the Trickster, and dismantle the pretender of control.”

“At Smallville Freaking High School?” Loki looked down at the scroll’s instructions once more, “As some petty sophomore student?”

“Yes,” Ra’s said, “Our intelligence suggests that whatever is there in Smallville frequents the local high school. This is not to be taken lightly, Loki. This being may very well be the Child of Despair we’ve been warned of. If this embodiment of Hope is allowed to flourish, the world will become stagnant, weak, and prone to their own self-destruction.”

“Tell me, Father,” Loki remarked, “During your frequent encounters with the Endless over your long life, did Death ever once tell you that you could sound like one belonging to Delirium?”

Ra’s didn’t react to that teasing. Instead, he stepped down from his elevated podium, and put both his hands upon Loki’s shoulders. 

“My Trickster, my child, my Loki,” Ra’s al-Ghul spoke softly, “I have every confidence you will succeed. You will have the whole might of the League of Assassins behind you, should you need it. You need only call. Trust in your powers. Trust in your training. Destroy what must be destroyed.”

“Sure, Dad,” Loki felt very uncomfortable, “Whatever you say.”

\--------------------------

Pale blue and white sparks danced at a leisurely pace on Loki’s finger tips. He lay on the floor of his modest bedroom, the scroll with his assignment at his head, and his sister silently folding and packing necessities for his journey. Well, silently – to be sure – but with an edge only family would recognize. Still, Loki didn’t rise to Talia’s passive aggressiveness. His flight wasn’t until tomorrow afternoon. He could’ve packed fine by himself in the morning. Talia stuffed another civilian style shirt into the duffle bag, and huffed another weighted sigh of indignation.

“It’s like you don’t even care…”

Loki lifted his head to see his sister standing over his bag and his bed. Only flared nostrils and moistened eyes betrayed Talia’s control of herself. So, that was it: Loki should’ve known. Talia expected him to know. And he didn’t; he failed. He pushed himself up to sit, legs crossed, and hands in his lap.

“You think I want this?” Loki asked, indignant, “You think I want this bull crap assignment? Leaving you here?”

“Of course, this is what you want, Loki!” Talia threw a pair of trousers angrily on the bed, “This is all you've wanted! Even if it’s ‘crap;’ that doesn’t matter! You just don’t care…”

Getting quickly to his feet, Loki took Talia’s shoulders in his hands, searching for her eyes that she hid from him. She wouldn’t look at him, and she couldn’t hold back her pent away sob. It trembled and shook her arms in his hands, and her gasping forced Loki to pull her close. He hugged her tight, showing his apology as he spoke.

“Sorry, Talia,” Loki whispered as she cried, “You’re right, I didn’t realize it. We’d be apart. For the very first time.”

“Maybe think of something other than yourself for once…”

Loki let Talia’s anger wash off of him without retort, and eventually she slid her hands up to hug him back. Her tears calmed, and her breathing returned to normal. It was a quick turnaround – one their father would expect – but Loki wouldn’t judge his sister sharing her feelings. And neither Talia would with him. But their training would always win out it seemed.

Loki held Talia’s face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over her soft cheeks, and drying her tears. Talia held Loki’s wrists, keeping him close. They looked into each other’s eyes. Brilliant green eyes, deceptively shared, making the uninitiated believe they were related by blood. Siblings they were, but by bond, not by blood. And there was the potential, again… The possibility… But their training would win out again. And Loki kissed both Talia’s cheeks, and Talia pressed her own lips to Loki’s knuckles. Before they pulled apart, their foreheads pressed together, in silent reverie. An exchange – a ritual – they’d forged since childhood.

“I will miss you, sweet sister,” Loki whispered.

“You’ll write,” Talia commanded, quietly, “And you’ll call for me. Whenever you need me.”

“And I will not hesitate,” Loki agreed.

With a deep breath, Talia pulled away, and crossed the room. In a container, disguised as a tool box, she checked once more on the contents. Loki moved beside her, an arm over her shoulder, and confirmed the vials were full, the bags well stocked, and the instruments in fine working order. Instruments and ingredients to channel and amplify Loki’s innate, powerful magical ability. It was unlike any type of magic the Demon and his kind had encountered in this world, leading Ra’s and even Loki to suppose exactly where he’d come from.

“Complete the mission,” Talia recited, “And return to us.”

“I will,” Loki promised, “It shouldn’t take too long. After all, the town’s called ‘Smallville.’ How difficult or time consuming can a place like that be?”


	2. New Student

Clark Kent eased his fire red truck into a nearly perfect parking spot in the student lot of Smallville High School. Sliding the automatic transmission into park, he quickly checked his half-reflection in the rear-view mirror. As he was tussling his wavy brown hair, a knock on his driver’s side window somehow managed to surprise him. Even with super hearing, Clark’s best friend – Chloe Sullivan – was inexplicably talented at sneaking up on him. The perky blonde smiled as she rolled her eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” She teased, “Come on, Clark.”

Clark grabbed his bag, locked the car doors, and began walking with Chloe among the sea of other students moving to start their Monday. Nearer the entrance to the main building, Clark and Chloe waved to two more of their friends: Pete Ross and Lana Lang. With friendly hellos, Clark exchanged a brotherly fist bump with Pete, his other best friend. And it took just one look at Lana’s effortless beauty and warm smile to make Clark’s heart pound. Despite his desires to be more than friends, Clark was still happy to Lana in his life in any capacity.

“Guys, you heard?” Pete asked, excitedly.

“Heard what?” Clark asked.

“New kid,” Pete answered, “Over there.”

The group looked to a wayward bench, and the individual sitting on the back, with feet on the seat. Stick straight black hair was tied up in a bun, and his sharp features matched the lean sinew of his physique. His attire was more punk than one was used to seeing among the students of Smallville High, and would doubtless end up drawing some attention.

“Cute,” Chloe observed.

“Let’s go say ‘hi,’ yeah?” Lana suggested, already walking with Chloe.

Introductions weren’t on Clark and Pete’s agenda, but the boys just shrugged, accepting their friends’ predictable behavior.

“‘Let’s go say hi,’” Pete repeated, as Clark chuckled.

“Yeah,” Clark finished.

As the quartet made their way toward their new classmate, Clark may have been the first to notice – super eyesight – but eventually, all could see – and bristled at – the switchblade the newcomer was expertly flipping around. The glint of the knife shone in the morning sun, and the ease the boy twirled the weapon could put anyone on edge.

“Umm,” Lana ventured to say, still with her easy smile, “Pretty sure you’re not supposed to have knives on school grounds.”

The boy looked up from under his immaculate eyebrows and took in the group now standing before him. With an easy, long inhalation, he twirled the blade around his fingers and hand once more, before it seemed to vanish entirely. Pete and Chloe vocalized their impression at the display, but Clark felt his forehead furrow. It wasn’t a trick: the knife actually disappeared, literally and entirely, and Clark couldn’t see or follow where.

“What knife?” The stranger asked, pointedly.

The languid silk of his tone dichotomously sent tingles across the skin of the listener. It drew people in, while also making them pause from a lingering inkling of apprehension. But Lana was never one to back down from anyone.

“Neat trick,” She admitted, “But, seriously…”

With controlled grace, the boy stood up, very close to Lana, looking down at her. Strands of his black hair loosed from behind his ears, seductively framing his face as he smirked flirtatiously. Of course, Clark didn’t like that. And of course, the strange boy took notice of that with a quick glance away from Lana.

“Search me,” He suggestively proposed, “You won’t find a knife.”

Lana didn’t step back, didn’t blink. She just matched the gaze of the boy, holding it, and asserting her own more-passive challenge to his veiled aggression. Her smile widened when she concluded he was more bark than bite.

“Okay…” Lana extended her hand in the small space between their chests, “Lana Lang.”

The boy finally smiled, a real smile that was more genuine than before. He took Lana’s hand, and allowed her to shake his amiably.

“Loki,” He said.

“Loki?” Lana repeated, intrigued and impressed.

Loki sighed deeply and annoyingly closed his eyes before continuing.

“Smith.”

“Loki Smith?” Now her voice carried a bit of a laugh.

“Unfortunately…” Loki grumbled.

“Well, welcome to Smallville,” Lana was quick to change the subject, “These are my friends, and by far some of the best folks in town: Chloe Sullivan.”

“Aspiring investigative reporter,” Chloe shook Loki’s hand, “Rest assured: all your secrets will be mine.”

Clark had to stop himself from instinctively jumping between Loki and Chloe. The boy’s reaction… Loki’s heartrate spiked impossibly high for an instant: like a predatory animal responding to a threat. His body tensed almost imperceptivity, muscles tightened and coiled, like a great cat poised to pounce. And his entire… _energy_ became like a terrible, building storm; a twisting tempest of dangerous, calculating potential. But it was for less than a second, and as quickly as Clark could see it, it passed.

“Not all secrets are meant to be discovered,” Loki remarked, pleasantly enough, “But you’re welcome to try.”

“Challenge accepted,” Chloe said, with a bright smile that Loki returned with a smirk.

“And that’s Pete Ross,” Lana continued.

“Sup, man,” Pete shook Loki’s hand, “Good to know you.”

Loki seemed to reassess Pete after that greeting; tilting his head slightly, and pondering the deliberateness of the words.

“Yes,” Loki apparently reached some conclusion unknown to them, “Good to know you, too.”

“And, Clark Kent,” Lana finished introductions.

Hesitating for only a moment before offering his hand, Clark did not smile, and his eyes did not waver from this boy. He couldn’t shake the feeling of a threat, of danger. Clearly, his friends thought this whole persona was just that: a guise, a façade. But Clark… Clark couldn’t stop the warning sirens in his mind. And when Loki’s long, warm fingers gripped his, the sirens turned deafening. There was something about this young man. Something unnatural. Something dangerous. Something to due with the meteorite phenomenon? Or something else? Something like Clark, himself? Loki was too new to town to have been affected by the alien rocks. Wasn’t he?

And in the reflection of Loki’s startlingly green eyes, Clark could see the deadly precision of Loki’s predictive analysis.

“Clark Kent?” Loki confirmed.

“That’s right.”

“Hmm,” Loki gave Clark a slow once over, “To borrow the words of our new mutual friend: ‘all your secrets will be mine.’ That’s a promise.”

Clark clenched his square jaw as Loki’s smirk spread into a true smile. His thin lips almost vanishing against his pale skin and shining, perfect teeth. It gave the boy the look of wolf or a deadly serpent. In response, Clark gripped Loki’s hand tighter. Almost too tight, but Loki didn’t react. There wasn’t much that could make Clark’s skin crawl, to break out in a cold sweat of apprehension. But there was something about this guy. Clark would need to keep an eye on him.

“Looking forward to getting to know you,” Clark managed, “Welcome to Smallville.”

The smile lingered, unwavering, in a tense exchange until the bell tolled loudly, calling them all to class.


	3. Alexander "Lex" Luthor

“You gotta stop staring at the new guy, Clark.”

“Hmm?” Clark acknowledged Chloe’s words, not comprehending, but continued staring.

“Clark!” Chloe insisted, a little louder this time.

“Huh?” Clark was shaken from his half-squinted stare, “What?”

“Loki’s a good guy, if a little eccentric; you should give him a chance.” 

Chloe walked ahead with her lunch tray filled with school-approved “nutritious” sustenance. Clark sighed and followed with his own lunch, with one last glance at Loki. The new Smallville High arrival sat alone, carving into a Granny Smith apple with the same knife Lana warned him about carrying last week. In that time since they first met, Loki hadn’t so much gravitated toward Clark and his friends, but he did seem to be conveniently ever-present.

“He’s nice, I guess,” Clark muttered to himself, “Not so sure he’s ‘good’, though. And there’s a difference.”

In the week since his enrollment, Loki had joined the journalism club to Chloe’s surprise, citing it “would doubtless be useful.” He’d attended a number of football practices, following Pete, to “learn more of the culture.” And he’d taken an interest in the Student Body Council, of which Lana was a member, saying he was “interested in the power structure of this school.” This had been enough for Clark to justify his suspicions and snoop on Loki in his own unique ways. He’d brought Chloe in on his doubts, and as always, she was receptive and willing to help, but they’d turned up nothing strange or abnormal.

“Well, you can really only know if someone is ‘good’ after you’ve gotten to know them,” Chloe advised, “And you haven’t, not even a little bit.”

“He’s dangerous, Chloe,” Clark repeated, as he had many times over the week, “I can’t explain it, but he is.”

“Technically, so are you, big guy,” Chloe reminded him.

“Yeah, yeah…” Clark couldn’t help but send one last glance to the knife-wielding stranger, still sitting alone.

\-----------------------------------

Through the network of hidden crystals around the school grounds, and a well-whispered word, Loki could hear anything he wanted in Smallville High. The sooner the better to be rid of this place, and back home with Talia and the rest of the League. Even father proved to be more entertaining in his memory than any aspect of this gods-forsaken town. Still, Loki was positive in his progress deducing that Clark Kent was somehow his target. There was doubtless something extraordinary about the corn-bred farm boy, but he was careful and cleverer than he looks. Whatever his secrets are, he keeps them well hidden.

Late last week, Loki was momentarily concerned he was mistaken about Clark when an enhanced individual was running amok in what the locals considered “downtown.” The young man had powers – a minor level of control over dirt and gravel – and was using it to cause quite a stir among the sheep that passed for humans in this town. But, in the end, the rampaging child throwing a tantrum had been stopped by… something, and there was Clark to observe him being taken into custody.

At the very least, Loki suspected at Clark having an incredibly heightened set of senses. The harmonic hum of Loki’s hidden web of crystals should be impossible for any normal person to hear. Even the strongest sonic registering equipment in the world would only barely be able to detect it, even by accident. But Clark seemed to subconsciously hold his head whenever he passed by one, scattered around the grounds. He didn’t seem to notice, let alone ask why.

“Pretty sure you’re not allowed to have weapons on campus.”

Loki turned to the lyric tenor that addressed him. The bald young man was of average height, but his build was deceptive. Underneath the impeccable, outrageously expensive suit was a physique trained to fight and survive. Loki recognized his pleasant face, with soft features, and calculating eyes as Alexander “Lex” Luthor, who was always in the local newspaper for some reason or another. Mr. Luthor was sporting a kind, non-threatening smirk, but Loki could see what was underneath all the pomp and circumstance he wore.

“No one’s had the guts to stop me yet,” Loki responded, “And like hell is Alexander Luthor a teacher at Smallville High.”

“Fair enough,” Lex smiled wider, “Besides, you seem to have a handle on it well enough.”

“Why are you at Smallville High?”

“Wanted to talk with Clark,” Luther admitted, “Clark Kent. You know him? Had a proposition for him; might be fun and make some quick cash.”

Seeing the blatant opportunity to play his games, Loki just couldn’t resist.

“Even if he did swing that way, don’t you think he’s a little too young for… solicitation?”

Luthor laughed all the same, no signs of insecurity cracking his metaphorical iron wall.

“He most certainly is too young,” Luthor’s laughter even reached his eyes, surprisingly, “And decidedly not my type, or my preferred gender. I just wanted to see if my friend might like a quick weekend job at one of Luthor Corps’ local factories. And nothing illegal or dangerous, I assure you, Mister…?”

Loki could appreciate someone who could keep the mischief going, so after only a moment’s hesitation, he accepted Luthor’s handshake.

“Loki,” He answered, “Smith.”

“Loki?” Luthor confirmed, “I like that.”

“And I haven’t seen Kent in a while,” Loki answered Luthor’s first question, “Probably headed back to class already, like a good little boy scout. But hey, feel free to interrupt. Be more interesting than sitting through another trig lecture from an old man who can barely remember if he ever understood mathematics to begin with.”

“I can appreciate that,” Luthor said, checking a PDA in his inside jacket pocket, “But, I can’t stay long; got my own boy scout work to do, and can’t be late. I’ll see if I can catch him at the farm tonight.”

Luthor turned to leave, eyes still on his PDA, but Loki was sure to speak loud enough for him to hear.

“You’re as much a ‘boy scout,’ as you are a teacher at this school, Mr. Luthor,” Loki challenged, “And I’m surprised anyone buys those supposed bridges you keep selling.”

From over his shoulder, with a twinkle of something dangerous in his eyes, Lex offered another fleeting smile, filled with subtext and hidden meaning.

“Welcome to Smallville, Mr. Smith.”


	4. Not Enough Explanations

“What are you doing here so early, Lana?”

Lana turned with a surprised twirl of her chocolate brown hair to see Chloe, Pete, and Clark approaching with backpacks on backs and books paradoxically in arms. Lana smiled to see her friends, but also for the possibility of some help.

“Chloe, guys, thank god,” Lana lifted her hands, draped in a heavy banner, “Mind giving me a hand getting this up there?”

“Sure, but why is there only one ladder?” Clark asked, looking around confused.

“That looks more like a step-ladder,” Chloe commented.

“I don’t know…” Lana lamented, “I tried to find an actual ladder that wasn’t in pieces, and other members of the student council were supposed to be here too, this morning…”

“Guess both the custodial staff and the council members will be getting a talking to,” Pete observed.

Lana heaved a heavy sigh, not saying aloud that this was true, but a subtle nod of her head betrayed her true, vexed intentions. With a quick determination of roles, Clark hoisted Lana on his shoulders to raise one end of the upcoming dance banner, while Pete held the other end up high so as not to tear it. Chloe’s supervising, Pete’s joking, and Lana’s squealing as Clark shuffled from one end of the hallway to the other had them all laughing hysterically. But despite the distractions, they managed to complete their task. A fine way to enjoy the start of another day at Smallville High. Especially when their days seemed to be more and more prone to tragedy, disaster, or attack from someone affected by the meteor shower two years ago. As students started to fill the halls, Clark gently lowered Lana to stand on her own two feet. Soon, it was Pete who noticed that something seemed to catch a whole lot of people’s attention.

“Whoa,” Pete exclaimed, “Who is that?”

From outside the main doors, propped open for the flood of Kansas youth, came someone who was strangely familiar. That familiarity became even more apparent for all four them – as well as a significant number of other students – when the individual took a few more steps closer.

“Loki?” Chloe half-whispered.

Wearing low-heeled black boots, laced up to the knee, and walking with a deliberate edge of a run-way model, Loki looked entirely different, but somehow still the same. Only a few pieces of the feminine ensemble were deliberately cut for women, but Loki wore them all exceptionally well. And none of the clothes were any different from Loki’s usual style. With long black hair tied back in a low, loose ponytail, Loki’s face was more exposed than normal. And only a trained eye would notice the light layer of makeup, eye shadow and mascara. It was all so striking, but somehow subtle, like the book bag hanging from a shoulder like a practical purse.

All four of Loki’s acquaintances failed to notice they stared with mouths slightly agape. Chloe and Lana with confusion, but appreciation. Pete and Clark with an entirely different kind of confusion. As Loki passed near them, all they got was a knowing little eye roll, and a knowing little smirk. One hand on the nearby ladies’ restroom, Loki looked all four in the eye in turn, before sending an invite via one cocked eyebrow to the girls. Without another word, Lana and Chloe exchanged a look, a shrug, and followed Loki inside.

“Any idea what that was supposed to be?” Pete asked.

“Nope…” Clark answered after a moment.

“He looked…” Pete trailed off.

“Yeah…”

“You think this is another Ms. Atkins thing, or something like that, ‘cause,” Pete shook his head defiantly, “Nope, no, no way. Not thinking about that. Nope, no way.”

Clark continued staring at the closed restroom door, as the rest of the hallway resumed some sense of normalcy, and Pete went on his way.

“Yeah…” Clark said again.

\-----------------------------------

“Hey guys,” Chloe and Lana found Clark and Pete eating their lunch outside.

“Hey,” Both of the guys started, but trailed off at the sight of Loki.

Following the two girls, Loki took their unspoken lead and sat with all the delicacy and grace of… well… a woman. No words were spoken, but clearly Chloe and Lana expected some kind of discussion, a relevant discussion, was about to take place. But, it would seem, that Pete lacked an appropriate level of patience.

“So,” Pete ventured, “What’s all this?”

Before the last word was spoken, Loki held up a powerful, authoritative finger, telling him to wait. They all did just that as Loki finished uncapping a water bottle and took a healthy swig. Sighing from the hydrating libation, Loki deigned to address their confusion, clearly enjoying the situation.

“This isn’t something you force, Pete,” Loki’s voice had a new lyrical lilt, mellifluous and pleasing, “Someone should only come out when they want to; when they feel safe.”

“Sorry,” Pete was quick to genuinely apologize, “I’m just confused.”

“It’s fine.” 

Loki smiled, and that smile widened as Pete’s dark skin noticeably darkened from his blushing.

“Given that this is small town, middle of no-where, Kansas, how much do you boys know about gender? Or sex for that matter?”

Now it was the girl’s turn to blush, and the boy’s time to clear their throats and avert their eyes.

“Noted,” Loki smiled again, “So, you all more-or-less know who you are from a gender perspective? Doctor looked between your legs after you were born, and said ‘it’s a girl’ or ‘it’s a boy.’ And he was right, wasn’t he? Chloe and Lana, you’re both girls? Clark and Pete?”

All four of them nodded, exchanging needless looks to confirm their identities with one another.

“Well, while that is often correct,” Loki continued, “Sometimes the doctors get it wrong. Not through any fault of their own, they don’t get it wrong because of what is or isn’t between the baby’s legs… Actually, sometimes that is the reason, but not in this case. Your biological sex, and your gender identity are two different things. Sometimes – most of the time – they match up. And you’re what science and medicine call ‘cis-gender,’ you identify with the gender you were assigned at birth. But that’s not the case for some people… And that’s what makes this fun.”

“So, what are you?” Pete asked.

“Pete!” 

Chloe admonished him and Lana shot a disappointed look his way. Of course, Loki knew he meant no disrespect, nor did Pete intend for his question to sound like he was belittling Loki’s experience. Still, Pete apologized sheepishly all the same, and Loki took it all in stride.

“So, some people who were assigned male at birth never feel like that’s right. Some of them can live with it, but others can’t. They live their true, authentic selves as women, because in their brains, their hearts and their souls, that is who they are. And the same goes for people assigned female at birth. They’re actually men, so they live their lives as men. And then, there are others. People like me.”

“Wait, hold up a second,” Clark interrupted, “What do you mean that ‘some can live with it, but others can’t’?”

Loki sighed, and took on a far-away look, staring at nothing. Or maybe everything. 

“Imagine that, as a little boy, you’re just beginning to become aware. Of yourself, and the world around you. You see your parents, and you play with your friends, but with no rhyme or reason, you like playing with the girls and their toys more than the boys. To the grown-ups, it means nothing, or it just means you’re going to be ‘a real ladies’ man.’ But as you get older, you want to wear brighter colors, and pretty shoes, and grow your hair long, and play with those dolls even when you’re alone. To you: everything is right. To your parents, neighbors, teachers: something is wrong.

“You’re not a girl and shouldn’t be so interested in girl things. And they tell you that. And you probably never thought about it before because you’re still so young. But they start pushing ‘boy’ things onto you, and now: you know that something is wrong. You were happy with ‘girl’ things, because that’s who you are: a girl. You know it. You just do. In your bones.

“So, some people who are ‘transgender,’ that’s the current word for it, those people sometimes can live as the gender they were assigned at birth. It doesn’t hurt them as much as those who cannot live that way. Some of us need to live our authentic selves in order to… well… to keep living. It’s impossible for someone who doesn’t experience it to truly understand, but try to imagine if you’re whole life felt wrong. Fundamentally, by your very nature, you felt wrong. That ‘God had made a mistake.’ Never feeling comfortable in your own skin, hating your body. And worse, being absolutely reviled by everyone who would never understand… Would never want to understand…”

“Man…” Pete breathed.

“That sounds awful,” Clark added.

“But, for some of us, we have a family that accepts and supports us. Friends that try their hardest to understand.”

For the first time since they met, Clark and Loki felt a genuine moment of comradery exchange between them with smiles. And they let the moment happen, as both understood – or were beginning to understand – that such moment were exceedingly rare and fleeting and should be cherished. In fact, everyone shared their little smiles.

“So,” Pete spoke up and tried again, “Can you tell us more about you?”

“Well, people like me, in this part of the world are called ‘non-binary,’ meaning we don’t fit into the male versus female categories. We’re still… humans, but we’re something different. And that difference can be as wide and varied as the imagination. Me? I like to say I experience my gender fluidly. Chloe, can I borrow your glass?”

Chloe handed her plastic cafeteria cup over with a nod. Loki accepted and held it and the water bottle in each hand.

“Imagine, that I’m the water in this bottle. This bottle is meant to be all the clothes I wear, how I act, how I sound, and all that when I appear as a male.”

Loki uncapped the bottle and poured it into Chloe’s cup.

“Now, the water is in a different container. It has a different shape, it may even look entirely different, like I do when I appear female. But it’s still me.”

Loki quickly downed the entire contents of the glass and passed both the cup and bottle with the remains of the water to Chloe. Holding arms open and inviting, like a display, Loki continued.

“And now, the water is in a new, impossibly different container, not male or female. But, I’m still me.”

“That,” Pete started, “Actually sounds really cool.”

“Yeah,” Clark agreed, “I’m not sure that I… that I’ll ever really get it, but for sure I can respect it. You.”

“Thanks,” Loki’s head dipped down a little to hide the appreciative blush, “And if it helps, I go through boy modes, and girl modes, and I always try and make that clear with how I appear. If you’re ever unsure, just ask. And since I do change rather frequently, you can still refer to me as he/him. It helps with the confusion.”

“But what if you’re in ‘girl mode,’ what can we call you?” Lana asked.

“What would you call Chloe? Boys, what would you call Lana?” Loki asked Pete and Clark.

“She and her?” Clark ventured, but felt confident in his answer.

“And when I’m something entirely different from boy mode or girl mode, if you’re feeling adventurous, there’s always ‘they’ and ‘them’.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Clark held up hands in surrender of too much information.

“Might be thinking too highly of us,” Pete agreed.

“But, it does sound fun, doesn’t it?” Lana asked.

“Definitely,” Chloe agreed.

And Loki just kept smiling.

\-----------------------------------

“You think you belong here, freak?!”

Clark’s hypersensitive ears caught the sounds of bullying from across the high school campus, near the football field. It was the end of the day, and most of the students and faculty were eager to clear out for the day. Including Pete, who took notice of Clark’s wayward attention.

“What’s up?” Pete asked.

“Think I left something in my locker,” Clark was already moving, “I’ll see you later.”

“Ah, cool, man,” Pete waved goodbye, “See you tomorrow.”

There were too many people for Clark to just superspeed his way to the altercation, but he made his way through the dwindling school population as quick as he could. He could hear more of the attackers, but the victim was silent. Strangely silent. And Clark had a feeling who it would be. She’d caused quite the stir when she arrived this morning. There wasn’t many among the student body that didn’t take notice and started talking.

Sure enough, as he rounded the corner, he saw a trio of football jocks in a half circle confronting Loki with her back against the indoor field’s building wall. The varsity players looked angry, angry enough to do something that could get them suspended, regardless of how their sporting aptitude might endear them to the administration. Loki looked… bored.

“So what the hell’s wrong with you, huh?” The leader of the three shoved Loki hard against the wall.

“Hey!” Clark called out, jogging forward.

They all turned, but only Loki smiled. Dangerously.

“Clark,” Loki’s feminine voice purred, like a cat on the prowl, “I figured you might show up.”

“This is none of your business, Kent,” The leader said.

“Actually, it is,” Loki retorted, “I believe this is one of those scenarios where Clark has made it his business. But don’t worry boys, I understand.”

“The hell you understand, freak?”

They didn’t hear it, but Clark could. The power. Loki had all of the power here, and they had none. They were the ones in danger, and Clark didn’t know what to do.

“I understand that you’re attracted to me, and that scares you.”

At Loki’s words, Clark became more aware of the others who were present, and if paying attention to his and others’ reactions around their old deadly substitute Ms. Atkins, physiologically the three football players were clearly very attracted to Loki. And they were fighting that attraction. It did scare them. And maybe, not just them.

“You want to know what I am, what I’m packing, so you can know if you’re attraction makes you gay or straight. You don’t know how to handle it either way, and that absolutely terrifies you. But I understand, so I’ll explain. It doesn’t matter if you’re a boy or a girl, if you’re with me, it’s always gay.”

Clark tried to keep his speed and reaction under control as he moved to stop the leader from pulling back his fist and punching into Loki’s face. He tried, but it wasn’t necessary. Loki moved fast enough for even Clark to be confused.

Tilting his head to the side made the leader crash his fist into brick. Before he could cry out, Loki spun about and gripped the leader’s shirt collar, twisting it near to choking tightness. His friends tried to intercede, but Loki’s foot lashed out to trip one to fall sprawling down on the concrete ground. The other found himself also laying on the ground, after Loki clothes-lined him like a professional wrestler. Loki sighed, as Clark stood once more with mouth agape.

“Disappointing.”

Loki wrenched the leader up; he grasped at the fabric of his shirt, but he could still breathe, albeit through nerves and fear. With her lips close to his ear, Loki dropped feminine tone, so that all that was left was malice and furious intent.

“You fuck with me ever again,” The leader’s eyes widened terribly, “And I will fuck right back. It will not be over quickly, and you will not enjoy it, so remember to stay out of my way. Squeak if you understand.”

The leader squeaked and nodded desperately, before Loki released him.

“Take your friends and go,” Loki commanded, “And spread the word. No one fucks with me. Say it.”

“Yeah, yeah, you got it,” All three backed away quickly, “No one fucks with you.”

When they were alone, Loki took a deep, cleansing breath and readjusted to a recognizable level of calm. She turned his head ever so slightly to Clark, who still hadn’t moved or said a word. The feminine timbre had returned to her words as easily as when it had vanished.

“Weren’t sure if you were supposed to help them or me, huh Clark?”

“Honestly?”

“Why did you help me?” Loki asked, “Or rather, why did you come here to help me? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I was under the obvious impression that you didn’t like me very much.”

Clark bristled at the admission and was quick to defend himself and his actions.

“What I don’t like is bullying,” Clark answered, “Had to deal with it myself before. And besides, three against one isn’t fair.”

“You’re right,” Loki agreed, starting to slink forward, “They didn’t stand a chance. Would you?”

Now Loki backed Clark against the wall. With hardly any reasonable space between them, Clark felt utterly trapped. When the flustered boy didn’t respond, Loki let her glorious green eyes absorb even inch of Clark’s boy, finding the lines of youthful lean muscle underneath the unassuming farm boy attire. Clark swallowed hard, and prayed for the heat to leave his face, and for the rest of him to relax.

“The sheer levels of insecurities in this place practically gives me claustrophobia.”

Loki’s muttering seemed more for herself than for Clark, even though it was obvious that she referred to him in her statement as well.

“What are you?” Clark asked, “What are you doing here?”

Sky blue eyes stared into vibrant green as Loki answered, choosing to speak the truth, if only partially.

“I’m looking for a Child of Despair, who prevents Ruination and Rebirth.”

“What?” Clark sputtered, even more confused.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Loki admonished, “I answered your question, now you answer mine.”

Clark waited. Not so much out of any semblance of courtesy, but because he found himself lost for words. Loki remained silent for what felt like full minutes before pulling away. She extended one hand and taking the hem of Clark’s red t-shirt in her fingers, she pulled him up and away from the wall to stand. She clearly mused and calculated over things that Clark couldn’t even begin to imagine. When she made her decision, she was already turning away.

“No, perhaps later. Where’s the fun in asking now?”

As Loki left Clark alone in his solitude, he remembered the taunting remarks Loki had said to the jocks. Confusing was certainly one word for what Clark felt, but a teenage boy was often quite familiar with other words to describe what he was feeling. And yes, it did scare him. He wasn’t ashamed enough to admit that to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, that was a long one. I tried to do some justice to some very complex and interesting topics, but people can spend entire careers studying gender and sex and sexuality, and they'd only scratch the surface. I may be playing around with a non-binary identity myself, just to see what fits - if anything - but like Loki, you don't have to experience dysphoria to be trans. That being said, Loki's explanation is far from the end all discussion of gender expression and identity. I highly encourage you to learn more, and do so with respect and love already in your heart. We're all human, after all.


End file.
